Dr. No

M hasn’t forgiven James Bond for the negligence on his last assignment that nearly cost Bond his life. Brusquely, almost contemptuously, he tosses Bond a time-wasting, shabby little case in the Caribbean. It will really be a holiday on an island in the sun – convalescence. Angrily Bond accepts his orders. He flies off to Jamaica. The sun shines, the palm trees wave, the calypsos throb. But on the horizon a cloud forms. It is no bigger than a man’s hand – an articulated steel hand – the hand of Dr. No! This, the sixth of Ian Fleming’s Secret Service thrillers, will, as did the others, grip the reader with a taught, suave, sensual stranglehold.